Chapter 2
Chapter Two
KERIAN
One minute, I’m running over it in my head—the plays, the mistakes , every reason we lost and every person whose ass I’m going to kick for making it happen. From one second to the next, though, my mouth is flooded with the taste of apples.
Why does Zander fucking Braithe taste like apples?
The flavor takes second place to the way it feels when his lips slam against mine. It’s teasing but perfunctory… and for some reason, that knowledge more than anything irritates me. That asshole has been on my mind since the start of the game because something has been slightly off . I could tell from the second I saw him—from his posture and his expression.
And then he thinks he can just kiss me?
No, he thinks he can kiss me while he’s staring down some chick crawling all over another guy?
Not. Happening. I don’t get used to make someone jealous.
What’s even more shocking is that an hour later, I still have the taste of apples on my tongue and my cock is rock hard between my legs.
It doesn’t make sense.
I don’t even like Braithe.
Apparently, my dick isn’t getting the message.
I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts—there’s a near endless number of people I could call. I could have a girl, a guy, or both on my cock in a half hour or less. There are perks to being a goddamn superstar.
And…
No matter how long I scroll, none of the names are doing a damn thing to pique my interest.
I grunt, dropping my head forward onto the steering wheel of my car where I’ve been sitting for the past half hour, lingering on a campus I have no business being on, in front of a dorm building that I shouldn’t know about.
It’s shocking how easy it is to get a little information out of an eager freshman if I put on a charming smile.
It’s even more shocking when they’re so clueless you get to steal their access card, and they’re too busy preening and hoping the number you gave them was real to notice.
Fucking desperate.
About as desperate as a guy sitting in his car outside a dorm building when he should be fucking his way to oblivion back at his apartment.
I wouldn’t call myself desperate , though—it’s more that I tasted something and I wanted it. Zander Braithe doesn’t know what he did when he kissed me.
He doesn’t realize that pressing his lips to mine gave me every right to figure out where he lived, every right to track him down.
Every right to do whatever I wanted.
It wasn’t my fault if the fucker signed a check he wasn’t ready to cash.
And I’m still in my car twenty minutes later, wondering what I want to do, when a low growl finally spills from my chest. For all I know, he got exactly what he wanted and made that blonde bitch so jealous she’s in his room right now, riding his dick and making fake little moaning sounds.
No.
Not happening.
It’s that thought more than anything that shoves me from my car, that thought more than it should that sends me to the dorm building with the card in hand. If this was a halfway decent campus, there’d be someone at the desk making sure no one untoward came in when they weren’t supposed to. As it is, there’s an older man with his eyes half closed.
He doesn’t bother opening them when I hold up the card I’d snagged and make my way past him without saying a word.
It makes sense—if he doesn’t know the students who room here very well, I just look like any other jock coming in and out after a night of celebrating a win.
God, fuck their win . Thinking about it makes me mad, and for some reason, getting mad makes my dick harder .
And fuck whatever is possessing me as I make my way up the stairs.
This was as far as I’d gotten in my scout for information.
I was a piss poor stalker, but I’d counted on my good luck to lead me if I managed to get into the building… and it seems like that bitch is on my side, because this is one of those dorms where half the doors have whiteboards pinned to the front so people can leave little messages.
Busy fucking, don’t come in.
That one better not be him. The black swirl of irritation just beneath my skin springs to the surface, and I stalk forward before something catches my eye two doors down.
Don’t forget your key again, Zandy.
Zandy. Zandy?
Why the fuck did he taste like apples and have a dipshit nickname like Zandy?
I don’t think about it when I stride forward and knock on the door. Either Zandy is home, or he’s out somewhere fucking that girl in a victory lap because he made her jealous.
The sound of footsteps come closer after I bang on the door for a third time, and a bit of smug satisfaction pours through me when the door opens and one very rumpled and sleepy looking Zander blinks at me in confusion.
He hasn’t been fucking anyone. I can tell by the empty room behind him and the fact that he looks more pissed than anything.
“Slade, what the fuck are you?—”
I don’t give him a chance to draw attention—my shoulder knocks into the door and I use his surprise to shove him back into the room so I can follow him inside.
His eyes shoot wide in shock before he opens his mouth again, and I realize I’m not here to listen to him talk. My hand wraps around his throat and I twist his body, shoving his shoulders back against the door and pinning him there. I’m not used to it feeling like this, I’ll admit.
Zander is a tall motherfucker, with a lean body and enough muscle that he could fight back if I gave him the chance.
“Told you I’d see you soon, Dimples. I think you and I have something to discuss.”
Now that I’m here, I’m caught up in the feeling that twisted inside me when he kissed me earlier—the heat that slams through my body at the memory of his mouth against mine. There’s a flash behind my lids where I can see how good those lips would look wrapped around my cock.
Fuck , is that why I’m here?
“Get the fuck out of my room, Kerian,” Zander hisses, and his voice holds all the venom that his body isn’t conveying.
If I’m not mistaken…
I arch one brow and lean into him, pushing my knee between his legs and…
My gaze drops along the length of his body, and I snicker.
“Either I caught you masturbating or you don’t want me to leave, Braithe. Which one is it?”
His cock twitches against my leg, half hard and plumping up with each second that I’m pressed against him.
I know what the answer is.
“Fuck you. I’m—I was—” He stutters over the words, and I’m caught in the way his eyes go wide and desperate, the way I can almost see him scrambling internally for an answer that will make sense.
Fuck me, I want him .
I want to make Zander Braithe beg for me, get on his knees for me. I want him needy and whining and an absolute slut for me.
The problem is, once I want something, I can’t let it go until I have it.
People might call me obsessed—I would say determined.
People might say I’m a sociopath—I just say I’m a man who knows what he wants and what he likes.
And what I want is Zander Braithe crying for me.
“Come on now, Zandy .” I bite out the nickname and press even closer, so I can feel the heat of my breath playing off his lips while he tries to make excuses. “You can’t just kiss a guy and act like it didn’t happen.”
“I only did that to prove a point,” he bursts out instantly, and I grind my knee harder between his legs until I’m positive it’s just this side of painful, but he still gasps and his breath hitches in his chest. His eyes are wide and I watch the most fascinating flush spread over his cheeks.
“What’s the point? That you’re into me?’
“I’m not— ” My fingers on his throat tighten to cut off the lie and my other hand dips between us. My digits wrap around his hard cock and I squeeze until the softest little whine spills from his lips.
“Then what’s this, Dimples? Accident? Were you thinking about your girlfriend fucking someone else and it made you hard?”
“She’s not ? — ”
Still not interested in his excuses, I squeeze his dick again until the words catch in his throat.
“You know what I think? I think you were in here with your hand down your pants, thinking about what it felt like to have my tongue in your mouth.” I lean in, dropping my voice to a husky whisper as I press my lips against his ear. “I think you were in here wishing I’d show up and put you on your knees, feed you my cock till you were choking on it. I think, Dimples , that you kissed the big bad quarterback you hate so much and realized you wanted more .”
He’s sputtering now, flustered and flushed, but he can’t deny the way his cock jumps in my hand again and his pelvis twitches of its own accord, rutting against me.
“I’m not into dudes,” he finally hisses in complete contradiction to what his body is doing.
“Never said you were.” My fingers give his cock one slow, teasing stroke. That sexy as fuck low sound catches in the back of his throat again, making his pulse jump and my body shudder. “But you sure as fuck want me right now, don’t you?”
“I don’t .”
It’s infuriating that he won’t just admit it—I could have him on his knees with his lips around my dick right now and he’d probably love it.
But…
There’s also something about the challenge flaring in his eyes, the vehement denial even though it’s obvious we both know he’s lying.
There’s something about the game that he’s starting. The one he won’t be able to win.
It makes me want him even more.
My hand leaves his cock and I grab his wrist, bringing it up to my mouth. He’s still shocked, and his mouth actually drops open when I deliberately spit into his palm and shove him away from me.
“What the fuck , Kerian?”
“Thought you might want something to use when you fuck yourself while thinking of me after I leave, Dimples.”
I grin, reaching around him to snatch his phone off the table. The asshole doesn’t even have a password, so it’s easy to punch my number in and send myself a text before I toss it back onto his bed.
He’s still staring at me with an open mouth and a red face, and I know I’m fucked.
Absolutely obsessed.
I want him, and I’m not going to stop now until he’s on his knees admitting he lied, admitting he was wrong.
Admitting my dick is the only thing that can make him come.
Fuck , it sounds like a good time to me.
“I’m not into you, you crazy asshole.”
He says it, and he sounds like he means it… but his cock is still hard and he hasn’t wiped my spit from his palm. I throw him a wink and turn my back on him.
“Keep saying it, Dimples. I don’t think your dick believes you.”
He’s sputtering when I open the door.
My body is humming with anticipation when I step out of Zander’s dorm room and down the hall, and I know somewhere in the back of my mind it’s probably not the best idea. I should just let this go—I should just let him go, but I know I won’t.
I’ll do anything to make him admit he wants me.
He called me crazy.
I’m willing to show him exactly how crazy I can get.
Speaking of… The blonde bitch he was staring at before hops out of a pristine red VW Beetle, beeping her keys and half running into the arms of the guy she was with on the field.
Good.
It means she’s not going to Zander’s room. I want to know he’s in there right now with those skilled hands wrapped around his dick.
And I want to know that the only thing he can think about while he’s touching himself is me.
A low groan spills from my chest, and I adjust myself through my jeans. I don’t realize I’m making another bad decision until I stalk past my car and straight to the red VW Beetle that still has the stickers on it from the car lot.
Probably a birthday present.
My hand dives into my pocket and I pull out the knife I keep there. Once I make sure there’s no cameras pointed at me, I proceed to slash her back tires with a grin.
It makes me feel better, and I’m silently congratulating myself as I drive away… because at the end of the day, I know for a fact I won’t be the one blamed for it.
A jilted boyfriend, though? Well… yeah. Zander might be getting a pissed-off call come morning.